A Witch in the Family
by fledge
Summary: Ever wondered how magical muggle children spend their childhood before going to Hogwarts? Here's a speculation about Hermione's first 11 years. NEW CHAPTER UP!
1. Default Chapter

Sept. 19th, 1979

„George!" Prudence Granger, who had woken with a start, shook her husband and switched on the bedside light . "George! It's starting!" 

"What … how … when?" George stammered, blinking at the sudden light. "Oh my god!" he exclaimed when his wife's words had finally found their way into his brain. "Oh my god," he repeated, jumping out of bed, slipping on the carpet and almost splitting his head on the edge of the wardrobe, an acrobatic feat that made his wife smile. "Must get the ambulance at once!"

He scuttled out into the living room and picked up the phone. "St.Cuthbert's Hospital?" His voice was shrill in his own ears. "Yes, … my wife's having her baby! Please come at once … yes … hurry up please! … what? … oh, yes, … 7, Unicorn Drive … Dr. Granger … get a move on, will you?"

When he put down the phone, his hands were shaking. Pru, who had in the meantime put on some things and was standing in the bedroom door, walked over to him and gave him a quick hug.

"You're sweet when you get all nervous over me and the baby," she whispered in his ear. "But there's really no need, all the tests are fine, and everything's been going perfectly well. It's the most natural thing in the world; you're a doctor, you know that, don't you?"

"Yes," George muttered, holding her awkwardly. "But … I'm just  … I just love you so much …"

"I know," she said soothingly, "I know…" The pain of a contraction forced her down to the sofa and made her gasp a little. "I'm fine," she reassured, seeing the terrified expression in his eyes, "I'm just fine …"

The bell rang; glad to have something to do, George rushed to open the door and the ambulance men entered with their wheel chair.

"Good evening, sir!" one of the two men said, much to George's astonishment, who had imagined it to be long after midnight, and now realised that it was barely eleven. "Where's the young lady?"

They pushed their chair over to the sofa, where Pru was rising to meet them. "Hello, gentlemen," she said with that brave smile that George loved so much. "Nice of you to come so fast; let's go. No thank you, I can get in this chair by myself, I'm not an invalid. George, dear, the bag is in the kitchen next to the fridge, will you get it please? Oh, and darling, do you want to go in your pyjamas?" she added grinning at him.

Muttering something to himself, George fetched the bag and put on a coat over his pyjamas. 

"Let's go!" he barked at the ambulance men who had been watching him silently, a look of quiet amusement on their faces.

And the ambulance sped off into the night.

*

"What a lovely little girl!" the doctor exclaimed when she put the baby in Pru's arms at exactly midnight. "And what a good child she is. Hardly ever find such a smooth birth as this one. Indeed, I've never seen one like yours considering she's your first. Usually takes much longer. Well, congratulations!"

"Aren't you wonderful?" Pru whispered lovingly. "Isn't she, George?"

George made some indistinct sound and stretched out his hand uncertainly.

"Come on, of course you can touch her; she won't break. In fact," she added mischievously, "you will have to do so quite often in the years to come, as I'm planning on being an emancipated mother."

George reached out to pat his daughter's head. "Do babies usually have such a lot of hair?" he asked at he same time feeling somewhat stupid because of his question.

"Not very often," the doctor answered. "Somehow I have a feeling she's going to be a very special child."

*

A faint scratching noise from her desk made Minerva McGonagall look up from her reading.

The noise was coming from a pink glowing quill that was writing all by itself on a piece of parchment.

The professor's face lit up as she rose from her chair to go over to the desk.

"A new magical baby," she said to herself, "how nice."

She took the piece of parchment and inspected it.

"Prudence and George Granger," she read, "7 Unicorn Drive, Greater Ashbury, Somerset; a girl born midnight 19th September. – Now this is very remarkable indeed, let's see…" she glanced at the astro-clock on the wall, "yes, it's the full moon, too, … I am sure this is going to be a very special child." 


	2. TWo

A/N: I have decided not to use proper chapter names any more, as it would be quite confusing in the long run. So I'll rather use dates to show how the story progresses. Let's assume that they all start Hogwarts in 1991. Being born in September, Hermione will be admitted to Hogwarts almost a year older than Harry, whose Birthday is July 31st , 1980. Hogwarts in 1997in(Ask JKR why Hermione's birthday is this weird date, Sept 19th, I have not the slightest idea! – suggestions welcome!)  
  
Admittedly, there is some dispute going on whether her birthyear is '79 or '80, however, for me it's more plausible this way. After all, Dumbledore is very strict about age limits in GoF, for example, and also Hermione seems to be a lot more mature than Harry (let alone Ron), especially in PS and CoS.  
  
Sept. 28th, 1979  
  
„... Zoe." With a satisfied sigh, Prudence wrote the address on the envelope and sealed it. „That's the last invitation . I never knew we had so many relatives. How many ... ?"  
  
„Twenty-something? I've no idea, really," George, who was busy changing his daughter's nappies and clearly had his mind on more important things (like wishing for a third hand, for heaven's sake!), muttered. „I say, when do babies start going to the loo?"  
  
„Not quite yet, I'm afraid," his wife giggled. „But she'll start soon after you've really got the hang of this business, just you wait. – Let me see..." She stepped over to George's side to inspect his handiwork. "You're learning – perhaps you'll even get a chance to enjoy it before she doesn't need your services any longer."  
  
She smiled and gave him a quick hug. "Now that you've finished, I think I'll take her with me to the post office to post all these ..." She pointed towards the pile of envelopes on the desk. „Need to get them on their way, the christening's in a week, and they'll have to make their arrangements – and get the presents," she added, grinning wickedly.  
  
„That's why we've invited the whole crowd in the first place," George went along with her joke. „I can't see any other reason why anyone in their right mind should invite your uncle Godfrey..."  
  
„He's nice," his wife protested, laughing, and slapping him playfully, „but your aunt Pernilla... Stop tickling me!"  
  
None of them paid any attention to the small brownish bird that had been sitting on the windowsill for the last ten minutes looking in through he window as if watching.  
  
*  
  
"Their name-giving ceremony is taking place in a week," Julie Spinnet said (after transforming from a linnet back to human form) to Cornelius Fudge and Professor McGonagall, who had been waiting in the office of the Department for Magical Darwinism. "At 10 o'clock in their local place of worship."  
  
"Thank you, Julie, good work," the Minister nodded, somewhat condescendingly. "But you should get familiar with the appropriate muggle terms: it's called a christening, and it takes place in a church."  
  
Julie turned red and wanted to say something in reply, but Minerva shot her soothing glance, and she checked herself.  
  
"Well, I – hm – " Fudge began, then he finished rather quickly: "I'll leave everything to you, Minerva, you know what you've got to do, don't you?"  
  
"Of course, Minister," she replied with a slight edge to her voice which he absolutely failed to notice. "You know I've done this before."  
  
"Very well then, I'll be off, - urgent appointment – international business ... "  
  
And he bustled out of the room.  
  
"Urgent appointment – pah!" Julie spat as soon as the door closed. "He couldn't transform into a wardrobe, let alone anything alive. And he's got the nerve ... "  
  
"Calm down, Julie," Minerva patted her arm. "I know what he's like; how often have I asked myself how a nitwit like him got to be Minister of Magic ... But then, it's rather good for us at Hogwarts, we can do pretty much whatever we like; whenever he starts making a nuisance of himself, Dumbledore knows how to deal with him, - wouldn't be so easy if he was cleverer, would it? So humour him in unimportant matters, but stand up to him if it's something important, is my advice. You'll notice he gives in rather quickly if one opposes him in earnest. – How's little Alicia, by the way?" she added, changing the topic to distract her friend from her annoyance.  
  
"She's such a darling! You know she got her first toy broom for her fifth birthday two weeks ago, and she's been on it almost every waking hour ever since. She's going to be a marvellous Quidditch player, Magnus says," she finished proudly.  
  
"Oh yes, Quidditch ... " Minerva's eyes got a dreamy expression. "Hope to see her on the Gryffindor team some time, we could do with some good players now James has left school... " She pulled herself together and put on her businesslike face. "Well, give her a hug from me, and tell Magnus I said hello."  
  
"I will, "Julie went to her desk and gathered her things in her bag. "Well, I'd better be off. Rent an Elf charge you a fortune when their babysitters have to work overtime."  
  
*  
  
Oct. 5th, 1979  
  
"Season of mist ..." Prudence said quietly to herself, as she pushed the pram out of the house. The pale autumn sun was just seeping through the morning mist, enveloping everything in golden hues. "Isn't it a lovely day, Hermione?" she asked bending down to the baby who was looking up at her with her large brown eyes. "It's almost as if you could understand me, you know," her mother said. But then she laughed at herself, "What a stupid idea, - you're just two weeks, how could you possibly? – I suppose all mothers are so foolish ..."  
  
George was already waiting next to the car; together they deposited their daughter in the back seat and stowed the pram away in the trunk. Then they got in, and George started the engine.  
  
"Have you booked the family lounge at the Red Lion for the party?" Pru asked her husband.  
  
He started, but then remembered. "Yes, I have. And a splendid idea of yours, too. I dunno how we could have packed all those twenty-odd people into our house. Of course it will cost us a fortune ..." The twinkle in his eyes showed her that he was joking.  
  
"Shame on you , Scrooge!" she laughed, making as if to hit him, but checking herself. "No, I'll spare you for the moment, we want to get us to the church on time."  
  
The small church was crowded. Pru and George were both surprised at the number of people present.  
  
"Well, it IS a rather small town, perhaps there's just a lot of people interested in the sensational baptising of Dr. Granger's daughter," Prudence said to her husband on entering the church. "They're a funny looking lot though, I didn't know people were still wearing cloaks like these, and in such strange colours, too."  
  
They walked down the aisle together, George holding his daughter in his arms. The ceremony itself was over soon, and the vicar showed only mild surprise at the baby's unusual name. Hermione was an exceptionally well- behaved child and didn't even flinch when the water was poured over her head.  
  
Afterwards, they were standing next to the church door, and everybody was congratulating them on their lovely daughter. People whom neither of them had ever seen before kept shaking hands with them and tickling the baby's chin.  
  
"Hermione … what an unusual lovely name," a tall spectacled woman in a dark green satin cloak said to Pru shaking her hand, "do you mind my giving her this little present? It's a good luck charm my mother gave to me, and I'd love her to have it, she's such a sweet child. I'm sure you'll be very proud of her one day." She handed Pru a smooth round stone that shone in gold and red on a delicate gold chain. Automatically, Pru took the ornament, and before she could gather her wits together, the woman was gone, as if she had disappeared into thin air.  
  
"But – " Pru stammered, looking around somewhat astonished. But immediately the next person, - a rather small balding man in an almost ridiculously large black top hat, - was shaking her hand muttering congratulations.  
  
*  
  
"How very strange," Prudence said to George when they had finally arrived back home, "I'm sure I've never seen this woman before, and yet she looked oddly familiar. Just look at this stone, - any idea what it is? It looks quite expensive to me. I'm not sure – what do you think we should do with it?"  
  
"I do admit it is very strange," George answered, "however, I don't see very well what we can do about it. The thing was obviously given to you of her own free will by some nutty female ("She didn't seem nutty to me!", his wife interpolated.) who didn't leave her name and seemed very particular not to introduce herself. So I don't think there's any harm in keeping it. Probably it will be some plastic junk made in HongKong, anyway."  
  
"Of course you're probably perfectly right," his wife replied somewhat doubtfully. "But I have a feeling somehow that there's more to the whole thing. And I'm pretty sure this 'thing', as you call it, - which is extraordinarily beautiful, by the way, - is NOT 'some plastic junk'. However, the rest of it makes sense, so I don't suppose there'll be any harm in keeping it. We can always give it back if this strange woman should appear again. – If only I could remember where I've seen her before!" she finished. 


	3. Four

A/N Well, here's more of my little story. I knew I'd be stirring some disagreement about Hermione's age, but let's face it, we have no real proof one way or the other, so bear with me and let me do it my way, ok? Sorry for getting Alicia's age wrong, I had somehow got the idea she was Wood's age (according to PS this MIGHT even be true), but then she'd still be a bit too old. I just thought it was a nice idea, and I don't expect her to appear again, anyway.  
  
May 1st, 1980  
  
"Good morning, darling," the sun was pouring through the bedroom window, and George was standing beside his wife's side of the bed, carrying a breakfast tray. "Have a lovely birthday!"  
  
"Mmmm," was the somewhat indistinct reply. She started rubbing her eyes, then opened them to look at him. "How nice ... So you don't think I'm getting too old for you?"  
  
"Never!" came the answer. George put down his tray, sat down on the bed and took her in his arms, starting kissing her ...  
  
"Mummieee!"  
  
They both jumped.  
  
"Hermione?" Prudence whispered incredulously. She rushed out of bed and into the nursery, George following on her heels, just as surprised.  
  
They found their daughter standing next to the door, holding on to the frame, and looking up at them with a big proud grin.  
  
"Mummy, Daddy!"  
  
"Hermy!" Prudence got down on her knees in front of her, folding her in her arms. "How did you ... It's absolutely amazing!" she added, turning to George. "I've never heard anything like it. Not only has she started to walk without ever going through the crawling stage, but she's said her first words, too! At her age! It's unbelievable! Oh baby, I'm so proud of you!" And she swung her daughter, who screamed with delight, high into the air.  
  
*  
  
"Look, here's that cat again," George said when they were leaving the house with the pram to go for a walk in the beautiful weather.  
  
"Yes, I've seen her around before," Prudence agreed, looking at the large tabby cat that was sitting on the low wall of their front garden. "She's easy enough to recognise, isn't she, with these large marks around the eyes, almost as if she was wearing spectacles... Let's buy some food for her when we get to the supermarket, maybe she's hungry. "  
  
"She certainly doesn't look hungry to me," George replied, inspecting the animal more closely who was looking at them attentively. "Here, Kitty- kitty, ... " he bent down to pat the cat, but it gave him a deeply disdainful look before it got up, stretched and arched its back and leapt lazily down from the wall to disappear in the bushes.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry – " George, who usually got along with cats very nicely, stammered, taken aback. And his wife giggled, "Well you certainly cut no ice with this one!"  
  
*  
  
"Preposterous!" Minerva McGonagall was fuming. "Cat food! And trying to pat me on the head! Well, I never ... "  
  
"They meant you no harm, Minerva," Dumbledore's voice sounded amused. "How could they have known who you were? They were only trying to be kind. Anyway, is everything all right at Unicorn Drive? Is she making progress?"  
  
"She is. Started walking today and used her first words. Yes, Beltaine is still a powerful date."  
  
"So it is," he agreed. "Well, we'll check again on her first birthday, need to give her a present, don't you think so? And it will be time to appear in some dreams again, too ... "  
  
Professor McGonagall did not look as if she relished the idea of appearing in anybody's dream, in fact, she almost snorted.  
  
"Don't fuss, Minerva. Where's your sense of humour? I always enjoy these occasions, and it's also quite educational, too, seeing how the muggle mind works."  
  
"Well, you may have a point here, I admit. Still, I don't really like the idea. Anyway, if you'll excuse me, there are quite a few papers for me to mark..."  
  
"By all means, don't let me keep you," Dumbledore said almost meekly, but when the door had almost closed behind her, he added, under his breath, "Kitty-kitty..." 


	4. Five

A/N: Well, this is the next part; nothing special happening, but I thought I couldn't very well ignore Harry's birthday completely.  
  
  
  
July 31st, 1980  
  
"I wish these machines didn't make such a noise," Prudence complained as a huge motor bike thundered past them. "It'll wake her up, and I'm sure she's terribly tired after this long day at the zoo."  
  
But Hermione didn't stir, there even appeared something like a faint smile on her face.  
  
"No wonder she's tired," George agreed, "It was absolutely amazing how she kept running around all over the place. Gosh, I am tired, beats me how she kept it up. What you think she liked most?"  
  
"I'm not so sure, she seemed interested in pretty much everything. But ... I believe she liked the lions best. Remember how she stood there gaping at them? Quite out of behaviour for her age... "  
  
"She also seemed to be quite interested in the snakes. Had to hold her up to the boa constrictor's window for hours; my arms still hurt. Yes, she doesn't behave like her age at all ... But don't worry, there used to be report in 'Science', children like her ARE unusual, but there are several reports ... "  
  
"Oh, you and your 'Science'!" His wife punched him playfully. "As long as everything can be explained scientifically you're happy. Do we really want explanations for everything? Why not just be thankful for having her and try to do whatever we can to make her happy?"  
  
"Of course you're right, darling," he replied meekly, "like always. I've just been wondering ... if she goes on like this, she'll have her MD at the age of seventeen."  
  
"Or be an artist, a writer or a dancer, ... "Pru continued dreamily. "No matter," she added, shaking herself out of her reverie, "what we all need now is dinner."  
  
*  
  
"What's up with you, Peter?" Sirius asked his friend, who was standing apart from the group gathered around Lily's bed. "I've been wondering ... you've been looking rather under the weather recently ... is there anything wrong? You can tell your friends, you know, don't you?"  
  
"What?" Peter seemed to come back suddenly from very far off. "No, no, I'm fine ... been working a lot ... I'm all right, no need to worry about me." He smiled with ill-concealed effort. "A beautiful baby, really ... "  
  
"Well, if you say so." Sirius looked at him doubtfully. "I suppose you know what you're doing..."  
  
"I do, believe me ... "  
  
At this moment, James Apparated in the middle of the room, brandishing a large bottle of champagne; distracted by his noisy appearance Sirius' attention turned away from Peter, who heaved a huge sigh and turned to leave the room. As everybody was gathering around James, talking at the same time, noboy noticed his quiet exit.  
  
*  
  
"Rrring!" Typical, wasn't it, that the blasted thing had to go off just when the nuisance of a baby had stopped howling his head off! The last thing he wanted was for the bloody noise to start again. Vernon Dursley practically made a dive to pick up the phone, swearing under his breath.  
  
"Yes?" he barked.  
  
"Hello Vernon," a man's voice came from the other end of the line that he couldn't place at the moment. "How're you doing? Petunia and the baby okay?"  
  
"Potter!" Vernon's voice was near a growl. "What do you want?"  
  
"Come on, old boy, "James replied soothingly. "What's eating you? Bugs me why hearing my voice always gets you up the wall. What have I ever done to you?"  
  
Vernon's reaction was a nondescript sound, far from friendly.  
  
"Well, have it your own way. Just wanted to let you know we've finally got our baby. Healthy boy, we're going to name him Harry. Lily's fine, too, sends her love to her sister. Tell Petunia, will you? .... Just thought you'd like to know," he added a bit lamely after another growl of Vernon's. "We're all family, after all, aren't we?"  
  
"Some family!" Vernon slammed the receiver down so hard that the phone crashed to the floor from the small table it had been sitting on.  
  
"God, no, the blasted brat's starting again!"  
  
* 


	5. Sept. 19th, 1980 - First Birthday

Sept. 19th, 1980  
  
„Happy birthday to you ..."  
  
Singing heartily, Prudence and George opened their daughter's door and entered with Prudence carrying the birthday cake and George heaving a large basket full of presents.  
  
Hermione was already wide awake, sitting at the edge of her bed and beaming at her parents.  
  
„Hi, mummy, hi daddy," she jumped up and ran towards them.  
  
Hastily, Pru set down the cake on the table, not a second too soon, to open her arms wide for Hermione to jump into them.  
  
„Happy birthday, sweetheart," she said, and George, who had put down his basket, too, folded his wife and daughter into his arms, kissing them both.  
  
„Now let's light that candle on your cake," he said presently, „now, where have I got my lighter?" He started fumbling for it in his pockets. „Ah, here we are!"  
  
He switched it once and another time, but there were only a few sparks that stubbornly refused to produce any flame. „What the heck ..." he muttered under his breath, while he moved towards the cake, still furiously clicking his lighter. „Stupid thing worked ok yesterday, can't think what's the matter with it now. – Hey, what's that?"  
  
While he had been muttering to himself, he had finally held the lighter to the candle and suddenly it was burning brightly.  
  
„I'm having hallucinations," he said to his wife. „Did you see this just now? I could have sworn the lighter didn't work, except for these stupid sparks, like this ..." he demonstrated it by clicking the lighter in front of her face. „and here's this candle suddenly burning as nicely as ever. I don't get it! I must be getting old."  
  
„Tut, darling, no need to get excited. You must have been thinking of something else for a moment, probably also looked somewhere else, so you missed it. It is strange however, that the thing does not work anymore now. Let me have a look. No wonder it doesn't work. The gas tank is completely empty, look!"  
  
„I light candle!"  
  
Her brown eyes wide, Hermione was standing next to her table, looking at the burning candle intently. „Mummy, daddy, I light candle!"  
  
„No, baby, fire's too dangerous for little girls," George told her sternly. „You can't light any candles right now, you'll need to get bigger. But you can blow it out, if you want."  
  
Hermione frowned for a second, then she nodded, and returned her gaze to the candle which suddenly went out.  
  
„Now did you see her blow at it?", George asked. "Well, of course she must have, how could she have done it otherwise? I say, my eyes are not what they used to be …"  
  
"You'll look cute with glasses, dear," his wife said, smiling at him. "They'll give you that intellectual look that becomes a doctor!"  
  
"Anyway, I'm still strong enough to deliver the presents. Look, Hermy, these are all for you!" and with these words, he put the basket on the floor in front of his daughter.  
  
With a small squeal of delight, Hermione squatted down next to the basket and started opening the parcels.  
  
"And what have we got here?" George inquired when Hermione had unwrapped a large wooden cube painted in bright colours, with variously shaped openings in its side. "Sounds as if there's something inside," he continued when she started shaking the object.  
  
"This must be one of these highly educational toys my mother is so fond of," Prudence remarked after a short glance. "You know, to practise three- dimensional tactile skills, or something like that. Here, honey," she said to her daughter, "let me show you … "  
  
But Hermione had already found out how to open the box, and taken out six small wooden pieces. After a short look at them, she took one and dropped it through one of the holes in the box; with only very little hesitation, she proceeded to do the same with the other pieces, and presently she had finished her task and rattled the box triumphantly above her head.  
  
"My goodness," George gasped incredulously, "did you see that? I could hardly have done it any faster myself. Hermy, you're a genius!"  
  
The next present caused Prudence to pull a face.  
  
"Oh no, not another of these stupid Barbie dolls! I do hate them. They indoctrinate kids in a way that's simply detestable. How typical of Zoe … Sorry, I know she's your sister and all, but I can't stand the woman!"  
  
"Now keep your hair on, I'm sure she meant it kindly. Anyway, look, Hermy doesn't seem to be too interested in it anyway."  
  
And indeed Hermione, after a short look at the doll and the clothes that went with it, had started on the next parcel which contained a large orange fluffy animal with big ears, large round yellow eyes, long whiskers and a bushy tail.  
  
"Look, daddy, look!" Delighted, Hermione folded the animal in her arms and started to dance around with it, all the other presents forgotten for the moment.  
  
"Lovely kitty!"  
  
*  
  
1 Dear Miss Granger  
  
Our intelligence reports the illegal use of a fire charm at your place of residence …  
  
"Come, Mafalda," Dumbledore's voice was the tiniest bit impatient. "You can't do that."  
  
"But there was definitely a fire charm," Mafalda Hopkirk retorted stubbornly. "And regulations say …"  
  
"If you' looked at your files first, " Dumbledore continued, visibly restraining himself, "you'd have noticed that a) Hermione Granger is just one year old and rather unlikely to be able to read, even though I hear she is a remarkably clever child, that b) Her parents are muggles and will not really make head or tail of this letter, and c) she isn't in Hogwarts yet, so you can't very well threaten to kick her out. Stands to reason, doesn't it?"  
  
"I dare say you are right, headmaster," Mafalda Hopkirk, who had consulted her files in the meantime, grudgingly admitted. "There's probably not much point in posting this. However, I'd be a lot happier if the rules were absolutely clear about cases like this. I'll bring it up at the next conference of the Improper Use of Magic Committee. Ho very typical of the big brass, - being vague about such things, and then blaming it on the junior officials when something is not to their liking. Why can't they just formulate clear rule so that everybody knows what they have to do. I do hate these individual decisions, where would we get if …"  
  
But Dumbledore had already silently left the office. "Bureaucrats!" he sighed when he was safely outside. 


	6. Christmas 1980

A/N: Well, here we are again. I hope it will not take eleven years to write this, so sorry for the delays, but unfortunately there are still other things to do, much as I'd like to spend hours on writing. Thanks everyone for the lovely reviews, you are helping me a lot. Suggestions and ideas welcome, mail me at reepicheep@gmx.at.  
  
Dec 25th, 1980  
  
„Good bye, Zoe, thank you so much for coming," after a final embrace, Prudence finally managed to shove her sister in law out of the house.  
  
„Phew!", she said, closing the door behind her, and leaning against it for a moment, taking a deep breath. „Why must everyone always insist on celebrating with us? It's not that I don't like the whole bunch, - well at least most of them, - but it IS a lot of bother, what with the surgery and the baby ..."  
  
„I'm no baby!" Hermione, who had been watching her aunt's departure in the background of the hall, protested.  
  
„Sorry, darling, of course you aren't like most other babies your age. Well, just listen to how you can talk ..." she went over to her daughter, picked her up and hugged her. „Now let's go back and clear the table, shall we?"  
  
Back in the living room, George was already busy stacking cups and plates on a tray, and presently they had got the dishwasher filled.  
  
„Now for some peace and quiet, finally," George said, collapsing in the chair next to the fire place. „Nothing nicer than quietly crackling fire of an evening like this ..."  
  
„Yes, I'm glad we didn't get one of those horrible electrical things with plastic embers glowing with red fom the inside, I say, isn't there a slightly greenish tinge in those flames? No, must have been a trick of the light."  
  
„Look, Daddy," Hermione had come up to her father's chair. She was holding a parcel, obviously containing a book, wrapped in bright red paper with a golden ribbon around it.  
  
„Strange, I've not noticed it before," George was only mildly surprised. „But after all, there are always lots of parcels around at a time like this; let's open it."  
  
„I'll do it." Careful not to tear the paper, but so quickly that her father couldn't even watch her fingers moving Hermione set about opening the parcel.  
  
„It's unbelievable how she does it," he muttered to himself, „like magic ..."  
  
Soon enough, Hermione had unwrapped the book and was holding it up for her parents to look at. The cover showed a huge pile of gold with a green fire breathing dragon on top of it.  
  
„The Hobbit?" Prudence was astonished. „Who can have brought it? Is there any note with it?"  
  
„Hmm... no card or anything, perhaps inside ... yes, look here," he handed the book to his wife.  
  
In a sweeping hand, in emerald green ink and old fashioned letter, it said,  
  
„There are more things in heaven and earth than are dream'd of in our philosophy. Merry Christmas."  
  
„No signature," Prudence said thoughtfully. „And a very strange motto for a book like this. Almost as if ... no that's stupid, I should have grown out of it ..."  
  
„What? Her husband enquired, who had evidently no idea what she was talking about.  
  
„As if someone wanted to say that these stories might be TRUE... as I said it's a silly idea ... But who ... and, who is it for, I wonder. I've read it, everybody knows that, and you have, too, though-"  
  
„Though I couldn't stand it," George finished. „ I mean, dragons, and dwarfs, little people living in holes in the ground, and rings and whatnot... It's a bit much for a grown up person.  
  
I'll admit there's a nice satirical passage or two, but the rest ..."  
  
„You're really hopeless, you know. However, this means the only person this book is meant for ..."  
  
„Me!" Hermione shouted, grabbing for the book.  
  
„So it seems, but aren't you a bit sma- I mean young for a book like this? Look, there isn't a single picture, only print, and you can't read yet."  
  
„You'll teach me, daddy." Hermione said quite matter-of-factly. Then she climbed into her father's lap, thrust the book at him and demanded: „Now, read ... please."  
  
And George, suppressing a sigh, opened the book and began:  
  
„In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, ... „  
  
*  
  
„A narrow escape!" Albus Dumbledore wiped a few specks of ashes from his robes. „Just managed to deposit the book in their living room and get back to the fireplace before they came back."  
  
„I'm still not certain it was a good idea," Minerva McGonagall said in a rather sceptical voice. „They will really wonder who the book is from, and when they start inquiring in the family ..."  
  
„I'm sure they won't," Dumbledore retorted. „They have a very large family, there were about twenty people in their house today, and they will not take the trouble to ask every single one of them. After all, it's just a normal book written by a well known muggle writer, it's not as if I had chosen ‚Hogwarts, A History' or something."  
  
„What's wrong with it?" Minerva asked slightly miffed, „It's a very interesting book, I've always wondered why there are so few people who have read it ..."  
  
„Of course it's an interesting book, Minerva, especially your chapter on the origin of the Sorting Hat never fails to attract my attention. I'm sure it's fascinating, and I only wish I'd find the time to read it some day ..."  
  
„Stop teasing me," Minerva had to smile in spite of herself. „What's the big idea of giving them that book, anyway?"  
  
„Well, you know she's very clever for her age, and she would have started to get into books pretty soon, anyway. And I wanted her first book to be something for her imagination. It would be dreadful if her first book was The Something of Adventure, or, worse still, a Children's version of Robinson Crusoe."  
  
„And why The Hobbit, not Peter Pan, or Alice?" Minerva persisted. „Isn't it rather brutal for a small girl?"  
  
„Have you ever noticed the way girls' roles are decsribed in those? You an emancipated woman? I'm amazed at you. No, you can't possibly give these to her now, perhaps later whan she is able to judge things for herself. Yes, I believe it's a very good choice. It has a lot of the important things in it, and it also shows how a different world can just be found round the corner, which is what they all will find out sooner or later. Hence also the motto, - Shakespeare is invaluable, isn't he? I wonder whether any of them has understood it...?" 


	7. Sept. 19th, 1981, Second Birthday

Sept. 19th, 1981

"Hellooo, where's my pretty baby?" Enid Granger closed the front door behind her, and squatted down, opening her arms wide. "Baby, come to Granny!"

The living room door opened slowly, and Hermione poked her head out. 

"Please, don't call me baby," she said in a loud clear voice; then she came forward and allowed herself to be hugged by her grandmother, who was somewhat taken aback at this reception.

"Dear me, sweetie, how you talk," she muttered, more to herself. 

"And I don't like 'sweetie' either, Granny," Hermione insisted, but softening her stern statement by giving her grandmother a stunning smile.

"Oh dear," Mrs. Granger sighed, "but 'Hermione' sounds so formal ..."

"You may say 'Hermy' ", another smile flashed across her face, and now she hugged her grandmother back.

"Hi Mum, didn't hear you come in." George appeared from the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up, and wearing an apron. "Be ready in a minute. You know, Prue is still with a patient in the surgery, so it's my task to see to the cake, and everything. I'm hopeless with cakes, really, but she said all I had to do was put it in the oven and ... " he sniffed, "I say, how do you know when ... good heavens!"

There was no mistaking the smell of burnt cake now, and all three rushed into the kitchen, where blueish-grey smoke was streaming from the oven.

"I KNEW it!", George shouted. He grabbed the handle of the oven, and jumped back with a yell, shaking his burned fingers. "Get out of the way!" he bellowed at Hermione, who was standing quietly in the middle of the kitchen, her large brown eyes earnestly fixed on the oven. Finally he found a towel and managed to open the oven and take out the cake.

"Sorry for shouting at you," he said to his daughter, I was a bit nervous."

"That's ok, Daddy," Hermione replied looking up at him, "I know you didn't mean it."

"Now let's see about this cake," Mrs. Granger said resolutely. "From the smell I suppose not even the birds ... Well, I never ... !"

"What is it, Mum?"

"Just look at this! This cake's as good as new! Looks exactly as it ought to, this cake hasn't been in the oven a single minute too long or too short! I don't understand it. There's still all that  smoke and smell in here, where does it come from? It's like magic!"

Hermione smiled quietly but did not say anything.

*

"Thanks a lot, this was delicious," Zoe said, greedily polishing the last crumbs of birthday cake from her plate. "And to think my big brother almost got this lovely cake burnt ... " she winked at George, who pulled a face at her. 

"Yes, if I'd not seen it with my own eyes," Mrs. Granger remarked, "and, what is more, smelled it, I'd have thought it was a joke. But no matter, stranger things have happened ... Now let's just clear the table and get all these things backinto the kitchen. " And she got up and started gathering cups and plate together.

"I'll help you, Granny!" 

Hermione jumped down from her high chair, grabbing her plate, saucer and cup and cutlery_ ._

"Careful, dear, you'll drop them," her aunt admonished, and tried to stop her and take the things anway from her.

But Hermione adroitly ducked away under her outstretched arm, grinned at her, and danced away towards the hall, singing:

            _Chip the glasses and crack the plates!_

_            Blunt the knives and bend the forks!_

_            That's what Auntie Zoe hates –_

And she disappeared through the living room door.

"What's that?" Zoe stared at the door, flabbergasted. 

"Oh, that," Prudence was trying hard not to laugh too openly, but with little success. "That's one of her favourites, she often sings it when she helps clear the table. - Only I've never heard her sing this last line before ... she must have made it up right now, how clever of her!"

"Well, I'd call it cheeky," her sister in law muttered. "Anyway, where did she get it from? She can't have made it up all by herself."

"Of course not, it's from  ... "

But Zoe had already lost interest. 

"Well, I thought she must have picked it up somewhere, amazing how parrot-like small children are, don't you think?"

"If you say so ..." Prudence refrained from an answer. "Pity you couldn't bring Arlene and Frederick," she continued in an effort to change the topic.

Zoe, who always loved to talk about her own children, rather than anybody else's,  snatched the new topic up eagerly. "Yes, they would have loved to come, but Arlene's got a part in her school's Christmas play – "

"Let me guess," Prue interrupted, "she's playing Wendy – " she grinned at her husband.

"How did you – well, anyway, they'll have their performance in three months, and she's got to work on her text, you know how ambitious she is ... And of course, Frederick didn't want to leave his big sister, he's such a loving brother ... But we hope we'll be able to meet at Christmas – you'll all have to come to see the play of course, Arlene would be soo disappointed..."

"Yes, of course we will," George assured his sister in what his wife always called his dentist's voice (the sort of voice he used for hysterical patients when he wanted to persuade them to open their mouths for the anaesthetic injection). "You can never see _Peter Pan too often," he added earnestly, giving Pru a look that nearly dissolved her in giggles, "it's always amazing what school kids can do with it … "_

"Yes, I'm sure Arlene will be an absolutely perfect Wendy, she's so proud she got chosen for the part …" irony was so alien to Zoe that she completely failed to detect it in others, "and I'll be making the most wonderful costumes for her. Well, I'm afraid I'll have to be on my way … Oh,"she added as she got up from the table and reached for her bag, "here I almost forgot my birthday present, now isn't this just like me? ("It is," Pru muttered under her breath.) Now where is she? Sweetie-baby!" she started yelling, "Auntie's got a present for you!!!"

Hermione's head appeared in the door. She gave her parents a quick look, grinned at them, shrugged and went over to Zoe, who had fished out a violently pink parcel with a violet ribbon out of her bag.

"Here, darling," she said brightly, "I hear you are very interested in books, so here is a very nice one for you, Frederick is very fond of it, but then he's a year older than you, so perhaps it is still too difficult for you. But there are many pictures in it, too, and your mummy can always read it to you, can't she?"

"Thank you, Auntie Zoe," Hermione said in her most babyish voice, which made her parents look at each other, trying hard not to laugh, curtsied and took the parcel.

"Aren't you charming," Zoe smiled and made to pat her niece's head; but Hermione  grabbed the present, ducked away and rushed out of the living room.

"I'm sorry," Prudence, who had watched the scene with great amusement, pretended to apologize, "whenever she gets a book, she always behaves like that. She takes it to her room at once and looks at it where nobody can see her. But if it's a book, I'm sure she'll love it."

"Yes I know lots of kids who love it, so she is bound to, too. But now I really must rush – "

*

When her Aunt and her Grandmother had left, Hermione appeared in the living room, carrying a book in her hands.

"This is not a book," she complained after climbing into her father's lap. "Look, it's made of cardboard, fourteen flaps only, and there are hardly any words, only pictures … "

"Let me see, dear," George said and took the book from her. 

"It's all about some animals going on board a ship and behaving like people," Hermione went on pointing at one of the pictures. "Animals don't brush their teeth, do they, Daddy?"

"They may do in books," George tried to argue, but she cut him short:

"But they don't really! How can a hippo even HOLD a toothbrush?"

"Yes, you are right of course," George admitted.

"And what are the words here?" Hermione asked pointing at the meagre six lines below the large picture.

            "_With some on top_

_            and some beneath_

_            they brush_

_            and brush_

_            and brush_

_            their teeth."_

"How boring," Hermione observed disappointedly. "Everybody has some upper and lower teeth, and you can SEE they are brushing their teeth in the picture, so what's the use?"

George had to admit that he could not contradict her. 

"Aunt Zoe thinks I'm a baby," Hermione remarked with a frown, and put the book down. "She even thinks this 'book' – " she looked at it disdainfully, "is too difficult for me!"

"No, dear," her mother interrupted, "she just doesn't know how smart you are; I'm sure she meant it kindly. Remember how she said Frederick loves it. And he's a year older than you!"

"And he STILL likes such books?" Hermione seemed incredulous, but did not enlarge on her cousin's mental capabilities. "Mum, this Wendy that Arlene is going to play, what is it?"

"It's a part in _Peter Pan," George started to explain, "and it's performed as a Christmas play in many schools every year."_

"Why? Everybody knows it already, right?"

The question had never occurred to George, he had always taken it for granted like a law of nature. "I've no idea," he admitted. "never thought about it … "

"It's all about a magic country where these children go and have adventures … " Prudence added. "And there's this fairy called Tinkerbelle, and it seems she's dying, and all the audience must shout and clap for her to get alive again, … it's a very impressive scene … mysteries need people to believe in them or they die … "

"Did you play Tinkerbelle when you were young, Mum?"

"Yes, dear," Prudence said dreamily, "how did you guess?"

"Easy to guess, darling," George smiled at her. "The feeling you put in that memory … "

"Anyway," his wife continued, "this Wendy character is quite the opposite of Tinkerbelle, she is the eldest sister of all those kids, and she's been trained to be the little mother for all of them and … "

"And she has to stay at home all the time and do the cooking and washing, while the boys go out and have adventures?"

"How smart you are! Yes this is exactly the idea – and this is why I was so sure Arlene would play her …"

"Come, you've always got it in for poor Zoe," George protested, but not quite seriously, "I'm sure she thinks Wendy's the most important part, and a model for all girls!"

"Of course she does, that's the terrible thing!"

"Is there a happy end of the story?" Hermione inquired.

"Hm, depends on what you call a happy end. All those kids get back home, - and take some more who have lost their parents, too – and live happily ever after with their family."

"And Tinkerbelle?"

"I'm afraid she stays in the magic country and they never see her again."

"But Mum, this is a very sad end! AND Wendy is going to have a boring life ever after, too! It's just not fair!"

"Of course it isn't, dear, but I suppose this is what growing up is all about … "

"Then I never want to grow up!"

*

"Good; they'll all be asleep by now," Dumbledore muttered, looking at the big clock in his office. "Now let's set the somnoscope …"

"Are you going to interfere with Muggle dreams again?" Minerva McGonagall inquired, not hiding her disapproval.

"Obviously," Dumbledore replied dryly. "It's her second birthday, and I've never   entered any of her father's dreams yet. I believe after the birthday party he'll be in a sufficiently impressionable state of mind. Let's see …"

He turned a few knobs and pressed some buttons on the device that was sitting on his desk.

"Yes, the main ideas are about his daughter and his wife, and – funny – the idea of not growing up … wonder how … oh, I see, should have guessed … well, Dr. Granger, here's a pretty dream for you …"

*

He was on a motor bike, roaring through the night. Everything was dark, just a few stars, and a bright moon. Looking down he suddenly noticed he was not on any road but up in the air. He was only mildly surprised, however, there did not seem anything particularly strange about the fact. There seemed to be water below him, and the machine was slowly going down to the surface. In front of him, perched atop a high mountain, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. Without any action of his own, the machine came to a halt on the bank of the water, just in front of the enormous castle doors.

A veiled female figure was standing in front of the door. She shone with a bright light, and the long dress floating in a soft breeze, iridescent in the moonlight. She beckoned to him to get down from his machine and pointed at the doors.

He noticed that the machine had disappeared, but, as often happens in dreams, he was not surprised and approached the veiled woman. Again, he was not surprised when the veil vanished and he could recognise his wife smiling at him. At a gesture of her hand, the large oaken doors opened, and blinding light fell on the stairs. 

In a floating sensation he moved towards the light until he was inside the castle. Silently, the huge doors closed, the light vanished, and he found himself in complete darkness. But then a tiny spark appeared in what seemed to be infinity, and slowly came nearer. First it was an only vaguely human form, but gradually he could make out that it was the veiled woman again. However, when he could see her more clearly, he realised that the was the same yet different, and finally, although he could not have said how he knew it because the veil never disappeared, he knew that this must be his daughter Hermione. "Daddy – " he heard her say…

"Daddy, can I have a glass of water?"

He woke up with a start.

*

"Why the motor bike?" Dumbledore demanded, his twinkling eyes belying his strict tone.

"Well, I just thought it was a nice touch," Minerva replied smugly, sounding very pleased with herself. "After all, men do love motor bikes, don't they? And it's not just a Muggle thing … "

"Oh. Minerva," Dumbledore chuckled, "do I detect a new vein of irony in you? Yes, it was a nice touch, I agree."

"But what was the point of it all?"

"Come, you certainly can work it out yourself: He comes to Hogwarts, sees his wife there in her Tinkerbelle outfit, then he goes in, and there he meets his daughter in the same costume, isn't it obvious?"

"Hm, yes, the way you put it … Wonder whether he will also understand it."


	8. Halloween 1981

Halloween 1981 and the days after

"Nooo .... !" 

The piercing scream jolted them awake.

"Good Lord!" Prudence gasped, as she leapt out of bed, flung open the door and tore into Hermione's room without bothering to switch on a light. George followed.

Hermione was sitting upright in her bed, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Darling, what is it?", her mother lifted her into her arms, stroking her trying to comfort her. "It's me, dear, it's all right, mummy and daddy are here ... "

"Dark man, mummy" Hermione managed to stammer, "laughing, - green fire - house burning..."

"Hush baby, you've been dreaming, it's all right ... " Slowly, Hermione's sobs subsided. "Will you carry her into our room, dear?" Prudence said to George. "She'd better spend the night in our bed."

*

Nov. 1st, 1981

They were sitting at the breakfast table, slightly exhausted from last night, and only half listening to the newsreader.

"… report a strange natural phenomenon from Godric's Hollow, a small village in southern Wales. Residents were woken around midnight by a single clash of thunder and a flash of green lightning. Only this morning it was discovered that a cottage was completely destroyed and the inhabitants, a young couple, killed. According to meteorologists, it seems likely that a very rare variant of ball lightning caused the accident. More details are expected during the day. Now for the weather forecast … "

"Strange, the things that can happen," George mused. "Just imagine, there you are, happily sleeping in your bed, and along comes this whatsit and next thing you know …"

"Yes, let's be grateful for each new day," his wife agreed. "Hermy, darling, are you all right again?"

"Yes, mum," Hermione, who was still rather pale, reassured her.

"That's marvellous, then let's all go to work."

*

As the surgery was only a couple of blocks from their house, they decided to walk although it was a rather dull, grey morning.

"There's nothing like some walk in the open air after a restless night," George said cheerfully, as he opened the front door. "Hey!", he shouted suddenly, and ducked, as a large tawny owl swept closely over his head. "These birds ought to be asleep! It's not that dark today!"

"Look!", Hermione shouted, pointing to the sky. Indeed, the air was positively thick with birds of various kinds, many of them unmistakably owls.

"Weird," Prudence murmured. "I've never seen so many birds in one place, owls or no owls. Gives me the creeps, somehow. You are sure  'The Birds' was only a film, aren't you?" she added, moving closer to her husband.

"No, mum," Hermione said, "they are dancing!"

"I dare say you're right," George replied, "It's a very cheerful picture, as if they were celebrating something. I know it's stupid," he continued at a strange look from his wife, "birds can't do this, I know. But anyway, they definitely don't look dangerous, so relax, dear. Wonder what's the matter with them, though."

"Probably a result of some environmental disaster," Prudence speculated. "But you can always write a letter to 'Science' about it."

"Great that you are your old witty self again, I was beginning to get worried ... Oh, good morning, Miss Marple!" he said to an elderly lady, who was just coming up their way. "Nice day today," he added by way of conversation, although, all things considered, there was nothing particularly nice about it at all.

"Yes indeed, isn't it absolutely wonderful?" she replied exuberantly, grasping their hands and shaking them vehemently. "After all these years, who'd have expected it? You-know-who gone, gone for good! Oh this is a marvellous day indeed! Excuse me, I'm in a hurry to ... " and she scuttled away. With her wide silver-grey cloak billowing out behind her, she looked like a huge clumsy bird taking wing with an effort.

"Well, I must say," George said staring after her. "I always knew she was strange... "

"Extravagant, dear," Prudence corrected.

"All right, extravagant –  I hardly notice her weird dresses any more, and I never mention the fifteen cats she keeps in her cottage, but today ... What can she have been talking about?"

"I have no idea, something about someone gone for good ... I say, Thatcher hasn't resigned, by any chance?"

"No such luck; the news didn't have anything about it. Well, whatever ... " he shrugged, "I suppose this will remain one of the unsolved mysteries of humanity."

*

While her parents were busy restoring rotten teeth and filling cavities (it was a perfectly normal work day for them, with just enough patients to keep them busy), Hermione was in her own small room that had been especially established for her so that she didn't have to stay at home (and her parents didn't need a babysitter for her).

Now she was looking out of the  window, watching the owls still busily flying about.

Suddenly there was a dull thud on the windowpane, and a small feathery ball was lying motionless on the sill.

At once she opened the window. The tiny bird, which nevertheless was definitely an owl, was moving feebly, and she could just grab it in time before it dropped from the windowsill.

"Poor thing," she muttered and gently  took the warm ball of feathers in her hands. Then she stopped and looked more closely: Yes, there was a small roll of parchment tied to the bird's leg!

"Oh," she breathed, and tried to untie the string. But suddenly the tiny owl, which had obviously recovered from its shock, bit her finger with its tiny but surprisingly sharp beak, shook itself and opened its wings. With incredible speed it soared practically vertically up from Hermione's hands, fluttered round the room once screeching madly  all the time, and finally disappeared through the open window.

Petrified, Hermione stared after it. A tiny brown feather was softly sailing to the floor.

*

"You must have imagined this, dear," George said for the third or fourth time. "There is no such thing as rolls of paper tied to owls' legs. Pigeons, perhaps, …"

"But the feather …" Hermione insisted.

"All right, there seems to have been some bird, I don't doubt it, birds sometimes do bang into windows and are a bit drowsy afterwards. But an owl with a letter…"

"You  don't want to believe me!" his daughter pouted. "Just because you've never heard of it …"

"Hush," Prudence stopped the argument. "Here's something about those owls on the news."

"… Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping patterns."

"Very mysterious," George mused, "and not even experts have any idea …"

"So you may just as well believe me, too, daddy," Hermione said, giving him her most charming smile. "There are lots of things experts don't know, you see."

"Oh, very well," her father gave in; he could never resist when she smiled at him like that. "Listen, there's something more."

"… viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early …"

"Fireworks? In the middle of the week, and on a foggy day like this, and by daylight? Now I'll believe anything!"

*

"And I swear I believe your story about the owl and the letter!" George declared in a rather exaggerated solemn voice, while Prudence was tucking her daughter in.

"Good night, sweetheart," she whispered, kissing her. 

"Sweet dreams," George added.

After they had left, Hermione felt restless. What if she dreamed about the green fire again? She got out of her bed, and started rummaging in the box on the shelf without any clear idea what she was looking for. 

Among various stuffed animals and wooden toys, she suddenly came across a red and golden stone on a thin gold chain that she did not remember seeing before.

Surprised, she held it towards her bedside light, and was at once enraptured by its iridescent hues. 

On a sudden impulse, she put the ornament round her neck; soon she felt a wonderful calmness inside. Smiling to herself, she got back into bed, switched off her light, and was soon peacefully asleep.

*

When Albus Dumbledore Apparated, the party at the Ministry was still in full swing, although it was at least half one in the morning. 

"Ah, Dumbledore, old chap," Fudge's voice sounded a bit heavy.

"No need to remind me," Dumbledore replied trying to show his usual cheerful manner, but noticing himself that he didn't sound convincing.

"Here, have a drink," the Minister offered a glass of champagne. "I say, we've not had a celebration like this for years and years.!"

"But think of the price! The Potters dead, and their son – hm – disappeared!"

"Of course, it's very sad and all that, and we'll all miss them very much, I'm sure, but it's You-know-who gone, and this is abso-hic-lutely marvellous, don't you agree?"

"Yes, of course," Dumbledore murmured wearily, but Fudge had already – with a distinct stagger - moved away to a group of young witches who were clearly flattered that the Minister of Magic himself was talking to them.

"Oh, Albus, don't take it so hard," Minerva, who had also Apparated, was patting his shoulder. "I know how fond you were of James and Lily, and believe me, I'm not missing them any less than you do. But remember these last eleven years. I believe most of these people here," she indicated the crowd, "have lost someone during this time, so we shouldn't grudge them their little celebration."

"You're right as always, Minerva, but still, it seems so bloody unfair ... "

"Will you mind your language young man!" she interrupted in her most governess-like voice.

"Yes, Miss Prism," and for the first time that evening a smile crossed Albus Dumbledore's face.

"Emergency! Emergency!" A magically enhanced voice suddenly rang through air. A dead silence settled. "Magical Catastrophe Squad Apparate at once to London Piccadilly Circus! Memory Modifying equipment required!"

"So much for celebrations," Dumbledore said dryly.

*

With an air of cheerfulness Hermione sat down at the breakfast table.

"Good morning, sweetheart," her mother, who was busy at the cooker, said. "No nasty dreams this night?"

"No, mum; I feel wonderful this morning, and I had a very nice dream, but I can't remember much of it. I was flying after that owl ..."

"Only natural to dream that, after your experience," George nodded wisely.

"I know you know everything about psychology, dear," his wife grinned, "but let her continue."

"Yes, and I came to an old castle with many towers, and then there was this great hall with many candles, ...

"A castle? With many towers? Was it near lake? And did it have large oaken doors?"

"I'm not sure, daddy, I think there was some water ... Why are you asking?"

"Because I seem to have dreamed about the same castle ... No that's impossible!"

"Well, and there was this huge red lion, and a woman in a green cape ... but I can't remember anything else. But look, what I found in my box," she had suddenly remembered that she was still wearing the stone on its gold chain, and showed it to her parents. "Who is it from?"

Prudence, who had long forgotten the ornament, was surprised at seeing it round her daughter's neck.

"Oh yes, at your christening, a woman gave it to me in the church."

"What woman?"

"I have no idea, let me think, yes, I thought it was very strange, a person I had never seen before ... and never afterwards, now I come to think of it."

"How mysterious, mum. Do you remember what she looked like?"

"Hmm, I'm afraid not. I remember thinking she looked vaguely familiar, but obviously I must have been wrong. The only thing that ... yes, I thought she was dressed in an unusual way – a long green cloak ... "

"Green? Oh mummy, the woman in my dream was also wearing green, and a kind of long cloak, too -–this must have been the same woman!"

"I admit it's a strange coincidence," George sounded not so sure of himself, however. "But – stop, there's some piece of news ..."

"... twelve people killed in a gas explosion shortly after midnight in Piccadilly Circus. The authorities have taken up inquiries. The cause of the explosion is yet unclear but there have been rumours of a terrorist attack ..."

"Well," said George grimly, "so much for mysterious women in green cloaks. THIS is reality, take it or leave it."


	9. Real Fairies?

Hello everyone! Thanks for waiting patiently, here is the next part, in which Hermione finally meets up with the magical world. 

Dec. 19th, 1981

"But I don't want to wear the blue dress, mum!" Hermione protested. "It- it makes me feel so silly!"

"But you look so pretty in it," her mother tried to convince her. 

"And you want to show off to Zoe, admit it," George added grinning at her.

"You beast! – Yes, you're right, and I'm not even sorry. Honestly, the way she's always talking! Arlene this and Arlene that – you'd think she was the wonder child of the twentieth century! Please, honey," she turned to her daughter coaxingly, "please do it for me, ..."

"All right, mummy," Hermione agreed, "but I want to wear my necklace, too."

*

"I'm afraid you ARE a bit late," Zoe said as soon as the Grangers had entered her house. "We'll have to be at the school in two hours, and there's still so much that needs to be done ..."

"I thought you said four o'clock," George remarked, with a pointed look at the clock, which showed half past three.

His look went completely unnoticed.

"Whatever," his sister muttered. "Come on in."

The first impression on entering the living room was one of a dressmaker's shop. Various dresses and costumes were scattered on most of the furniture, there were pieces of fabric on the floor and a sewing machine was sitting on the dinner table.

Arlene was standing on a chair wearing a dress in what her mother obviously believed was turn of the century style. Arlene was a skinny girl, rather tall for her seven years. Her mousy hair was done up in an elaborate way, with an enormous pink bow in it. Her face was flushed, and she kept moving her lips silently.

"Doesn't she look great?" Zoe said proudly. "Took me ages to get that dress finished, but it's been worth it, don't you think?"

The Grangers made indistinct noises that might or might not have been agreement.

"Honey, you can get down that chair now, and take your dress off," Zoe told her daughter. "Oh, and darling, WILL you be careful with your hair? It's been such trouble fixing it."

Arlene climbed down the chair and started fumbling with her dress. 

"Here, let me help you," Prudence said and intervened just in time before something started to tear. "It is a bit complicated to get at that zipper in the back."

Finally, Arlene had been relieved of her costume, and was wearing a pair of jeans again.

"Fine," Zoe sighed. "That's taken care of. You'll be the best Wendy that has ever appeared on stage, mark my words."

Arlene had already gone over to a large armchair in the corner, flopped down in it and grabbed a small booklet. She started to turn its pages nervously, her lips still moving silently all the time.

Hermione walked over to her cousin. She put her chin on the armrest of the chair, and looked at Arlene earnestly. 

"Don't worry, you can do it," she whispered, laying a small hand on the other girl's arm. "No need to be scared."

"What?"Arlene started and looked at her in surprise. But then her tensed up face relaxed visibly. "Thanks," she said softly, and gave a tiny smile.

*

The school auditorium was packed.

"I've got seats reserved for all of us," Zoe panted, when they entered. "It's a good thing to be the mother of the star. Now just sit down here – " she pointed at several chairs in the front row, "while I take Arlene backstage. Won't be a minute."

She grabbed her daughter's hand, and dragged her behind the curtain.

"Poor girl," Prudence said sympathetically, "she's frightened she'll do something wrong, so it's almost inevitable."

"Yes," George agreed, "Zoe doesn't really know what she's doing to her – hey, stop it!" 

Frederick had climbed up on the chair next to Hermione and started to jump up and down pulling faces at her. The chair was wobbling dangerously.

"Stop it!" George repeated, trying to reach out to steady the chair.

Too late! The chair toppled, Frederick landed on his bottom with a dull thud, and the chair hit him in the head. Frederick let out a howl that made all the people in the auditorium hold their breath. Prudence jumped from her seat and picked him up, trying to comfort him. Luckily, at this moment, Zoe reappeared to take matters in her own hands, and indeed the boy stopped wailing almost immediately.

"Hush – it's starting" Zoe said.

The lights were dimmed, and the curtain went up. A stocky boy in brown tights and a short green tunic ("Robin Hood?", Prudence wondered) jumped onto the stage rather heavily.

"How's he ever going to win the sword fight against Hook?", Prudence whispered.

"Don't worry, he will," George replied sarcastically. "I suppose he was the one who could remember his lines best. But here's Wendy."

And indeed, Arlene, in a frilly white nightgown that made her hairdo look somewhat out of place, was rising from a bed and said, her voice clear and calm, "Boy, why are you crying?"

"Oh good," Prudence said to herself, "she seems to have overcome her nervousness."

And when Arlene without hesitation managed to say, "My name's Wendy Moira Angela Darling," her aunt was quite confident she would manage her part satisfactorily.

In due course Wendy and her brothers went to Neverland, and Wendy (now in the costume which she had been trying on earlier) took up her role as a mother to all the lost children, darning their clothes, telling them stories and cooking for them.

"I must say, they're spoiling it somewhat," Prudence muttered to George."Having all these girls among Peter's gang. It destroys the psychological background."

"Come on, psychology's the last thing they'll worry about in a play like this," George replied. "They simply needed to find parts for all of their kids."

Presently, a sinister Captain Hook (an eight-year-old boy in black with a red baret and a make-up like a zombie), put the poison in the sleeping Peter's drink.

"Now's my favourite scene," Prudence whispered, excited in spite of herself, putting her hand on her daughter's arm.

Tinkerbelle, a tiny girl in a glittering leotard with small bells all over it that jingled at her every movement, had already drunk the poisoned drink and was fluttering more and more weakly.

"Tink, dear Tink, are you dying?" 

Hermione held her breath and grabbed her mother's hand tightly. 

"She could get well again if children believe in fairies!" Peter Pan shouted at the audience. "Say quick that you believe! If you believe, clap your hands!"

The audience complied, and Prudence found herself clapping away as hard as any of the small children.

*

"You were marvellous, darling," Zoe was in raptures. "Wasn't she?" she inquired from the Grangers. Without waiting for an answer, as she was positive of it anyway, she went on. "I did tell you, dear, didn't I, there was no need to get all worked up as long as you just learned your text well. And you didn't make a single mistake, - oh honey, I'm so proud of you. Not many girls your age could have done it, I'm sure, am I right, George?"

"I suppose so," George replied good-naturedly. "And it's true," he added to his niece, "You really didn't forget a single one of your lines."

"Yes, it took me ages," Arlene reminisced. "And I never thought I'd remember it all. Oh, I was so frightened, - but then Hermy said to me, 'you can do it', and suddenly I was not afraid any more. It was like magic! Thank you!" She hugged Hermione, who gave her a big happy smile.

*

"At least they cut that line about dying like English gentlemen," Prudence remarked, when they were on their way home in the car. "It's a horrible thing to say in any place, but it's absolutely disgusting in a children's play – as if any mother could ever wish for a thing like that! Hermy, dear, what did you think about it?"

"Wendy's silly," Hermione answered. "Darning the socks for those other kids – why doesn't she teach them to do it themselves? And doing Peter's spring cleaning, when he even doesn't care for her and only thinks of himself all the time But I love Tinkerbelle ... Will I ever see a fairy, mummie?" she added as an afterthought.

"Well, dear, I'm afraid they've been making themselves rather scarce recently – don't snigger," she said to George, who was making an effort to keep a straight face, "but in your dreams – yes I'm sure you will."

"But if I really really believe in them," Hermione persisted, "like Peter says ... can't I see a real fairy?"

"Real fairy indeed!" George chuckled but his wife stopped him.

"Who knows, dear? There are more things ... Very strange things happen all the time ... Just don't give up your belief. – And tell me if you do see one, will you?"

"Yes, mummie, I will," Hermione said very earnestly.

*

"Wonderful, wonderful," Dumbledore muttered looking at the somnoscope. "Really, if you didn't exist, we'd have to invent you," he continued, addressing a tall slim girl in silvery white robes who was standing next to his desk.

"I'm happy you realize that," she smirked, and her voice sounded like the tinkling of silver bells. "It' s not often a great wizard acknowledges that."

"I do admit that some wizards tend to look down on fairies a bit," Dumbledore conceded, "but you can't say I ever did, can you? In fact, I've always felt that you spirits of nature should be respected a good deal more. After all, you were there long before we arrived, and probably will be long after …"

"Unless muggles succeed in destroying this planet," the fairy interrupted.

"And it's not only muggles, I'm sorry to say – " Dumbledore reflected, "however, here's why I wanted your assistance … "

*

There was a soft tap on the window. Hermione, who had been dreaming about Peter Pan fighting Captain Hook by throwing red sparks at him, woke abruptly and sat up in her bed. There was a silver light dancing up and down in front of her window, and she could distinctly hear the tinkle of tiny bells. Her eyes wide, she silently crept out of bed and moved over to the window.

"Oh" she gasped.

The light radiated from a tiny but distinctly human figure, no larger than those Barbie dolls that her aunt Zoe had been giving her now and then (and that lay buried deep down in some drawer or other, never played with), and very much alive. The small person was gesturing to her, clearly wanting her to open the window.

Entranced, Hermione did so, and the mysterious creature at once slipped in and flew over to the bed, where it alighted. Only now that the visitor was still for some time could Hermione get a closer look: A slender, well proportioned girl in a shimmering silvery tunic with finely shaped features, loong wavy hair and – this was the most striking thing about her – transparent wings like a dragonfly's, that kept vibrating, causing them to glitter in iridescent colours of the rainbow.

"Tinkerbelle?" Hermione whispered breathlessly.

The sound of the tiny bells was like silvery laughter. Just when Hermione thought she would not be able to understand the fairy language, she could make out words that became constantly clearer the longer she listened.

"I have been given many names," the fairy was saying, "but you may call me by this one ..."

"Will you – will you take me with you?" Hermione's voice was wavering.

"Would you want to come?" the fairy asked with a sly smile.

"I – I don't know ... what about mum and dad?"

"Don't worry, I was only joking. No, we never TAKE anybody, no matter what stories those silly mug- I mean people keep telling about us. They all come along because they are eager to come. You are definitely not old enough, anyway, smart though you may be. But perhaps, some day ..."

"Why have you come?"

"Hmm, you so wanted to see a REAL fairy, didn't you –"

"How do you know?"

"Too complicated for now, although I suppose you'll find out some day - anyway, so I was sent – "

"Who sent you?"

"Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of our time – "

"A wizard?"

"Yes, a wizard, and believe me he's the best we've had for a few hundred years. Well, he thinks you should be helped to believe in magic and fantasy, don't ask me why, he seems to think you're something special ... So here I am ..."

"Oh, I knew you simply must be real, you're too beautiful to be only a dream! May I – may I touch you?" Timidly, Hermione stretched out her hand.

"I'd rather not, my wings are very fragile - but I can sit on your hand if you like, just to prove I am real," she continued and daintily stepped on to Hermione's hand. 

"Is it true you live in flowers? You are too big, aren't you?"

"Dear me, no," the fairy pulled a face. "Really, all those stories they tell about us! It's our job to look after flowers, that's true, and we can make ourselves small enough, too, but we don't LIVE in flowers. Honestly, how inconvenient! We live in a world different from yours, and only when we choose to be visible some very special people can see us. And you seem to be one of these."

"Will I see you again?"

"I can't promise anything, but you will certainly be able to see many things that others can't see. And let me warn you: Be careful who you tell about what you see, most people will not believe it and get strange ideas about you ... But I have to be on my way now, so if you don't mind carrying me over to that window..."

Reluctantly, Hermione complied. The fairy, noticing her sad expression, said:

"Don't be too disappointed when everyone says you've just been dreaming, you may not be too sure about this yourself in a few days." She stepped lightly on the window ledge. "But I can do something for you, I think – stretch out your hand."

She made a sweeping gesture, and a small flower shimmering in the colours of the fairy's tunic appeared in Hermione's hand.

"Whenever you ask yourself if it has just been a dream, look at this flower, and you'll remember me. And who knows, perhaps we'll meet again ..."

There was a flutter of wings, a last tinkling of silver bells, and the fairy was gone. Hermione kept standing at the open window for a long time, the small flower in her hand, before she went back to bed.

***

Thanks for reading, and I really wouldn't say no to a couple of reviews!


	10. A Thing Called Politics

A/N: I'm not sure whether you're going to like this chapter. It doesn't have much Hermione in it and no magic at all, and is altogether on a rather more serious level. But I felt I couldn't just ignore history completely. 

April 2nd, 1982

  
"... have been attacked and occupied by strong Argentinean forces this morning. Heavily outnumbered, the British forces surrendered after short heroic resistance. The Prime Minister has called an emergency meeting ..."

"What is it, dad?" Hermione inquired. "You look quite shocked."

"What? Yes, of course I'm shocked. Who'd have believed such things were still possible today?"

"But what's happened?"

"Sorry, dear, I forgot. Apparently Argentina has attacked this group of small islands in the south Atlantic, that belong to Britain."

Seeing the blank look on his daughter's face, he continued: "Come over here, to the globe. See – this is Britain – and now – dash it, I can't even find them – well here's Argentina – "

"Oh it's a lot bigger than Britain," Hermione interrupted.

Yes, it definitely is. Well the Falkland Islands ought to be somewhere here – yes, look, these small specks – well, it seems we are fighting over this patch of land with Argentina."

"Why, dad?"

*

"Are you sure You-know-who has disappeared for good?" a very nervous Fudge said to Alastor Moody. 

"This is what everyone says, minister."

"But can we be SURE?"

"If you mean, is there any PROOF, the answer is no, however, there hasn't been any report of an activity by him ever since Halloween. – I know what you mean," he added with a mirthless grin, "This business in the Atlantic looks very much like him."

"Just what I thought," Fudge stated importantly. "However he did it, he must have got some hold over the leader of that Silverania country – "

"Argentina." Moody corrected, shaking his head slightly, a gesture that was completely lost on the minister.

"Whatever. As I was saying, You-know-who must have put this president or general, or whatever he calls himself under the Imperius curse – "

"I wasn't thinking of General Galtieri," Moody remarked quietly. "He has a suppressed population to impress. I was thinking of – "

"No!" Fudge's voice was a whisper. "You don't mean HER?"

"Yes, I do. And I don't think we need Voldemort himself in this. (Don't flinch, I've always thought it was stupid not to say his name!) A tough Death eater in the right position is all this needs."

"A Death eater? Are you telling me she is – "

"I am indeed. Just look at the facts: Which muggle in their right mind would start a full-fledged war for a barren patch of land, some ten thousand miles away, with a horrible climate and almost exclusively inhabited by seals and seagulls? Can you imagine a Prime Minister doing this sort of thing unless for some sinister ulterior motive?"

For a moment, Fudge looked uncertain, but then he shook his head resolutely. 

"You must be wrong, Moody. She can be rather severe, it's true, but a Death eater? No, I simply can't believe it."

*

April 5th, 1982

"... to recapture the Falklands, a first detachment of a fleet that will finally comprise 60 ships has left Portsmouth with over 3000 troops. Among the detachment are two aircraft carriers, four nuclear powered submarines ... "

"Will there be a war, dad?"

"I'm afraid so."

"But why are they doing this? These islands are so far away, and you say there's nothing there, anyway."

"I'm not sure dear. It's something called patriotism. You're supposed to do everything for your country, even die for it."

"But – what's the use? Argentina isn't going to attack us here."

"Of course not. They just want those islands for themselves, they say they belonged to them before they were made a British colony."

"And they are really next to their country, not thousands of miles away. Daddy, why don't they just let them have these silly islands and forget all about it? That's what I would do."

"I'm sure you would, dear," said George, hugging his daughter. "Unfortunately you can't. That's a thing called politics."

*

June 15th, 1982

"... declared end of hostilities. Argentine Major General Menendez signed the statement of surrender, thus fully re-establishing British sovereignty over the Falklands. It has been agreed that British ships will assist in the repatriation of the Argentine forces. The Prime Minister is going to deliver a speech in honour of the valiant British troops tomorrow. Major General Moore will receive a high decoration from the Queen ..."

"It's over, dear," George said, switching off the TV. "We've won."

"What do you mean, 'won', daddy? People have LOST their lives, haven't they?"

"Yes, they have. And you're right, I'm not so sure whether anybody has really WON anything..."

*

"See? I told you so. About one thousand people killed, and a sum of money thrown out of the window that would have kept several millions from starving. And all this for a few rocks in the middle of the sea. Are you still telling me this is the accomplishment of a normal muggle politician?"

"You're imagining things, Moody. After all, how can you be so sure how the muggle mind works? You did see how enthusiastic all the muggles were, what a wave of excitement went through the country ... Isn't it a question of values, really?"

"Values, my foot! What values are these that make people kill other people for nothing more but prestige? Or rather, that give people authority to send other people to kill in their name, while remaining safely at home all the time. I tell you, this is not just a twisted muggle mind at work, ..."

"It must be a Death eater, I know," Fudge's soothing tone did not contribute much to appeasing Moody's bad temper. "Forgive me. Alastor, I don't think you're right. And, anyway, it's not really any of our business, is it?"

"Of course not, " Moody replied sarcastically. "It's just that we live on the same planet, but of course it's none of our business. Oh, dash it all, I can't stand this any longer."

And he stormed out and slammed the door behind him.

A/N: All right, what do you think? Next part is going to be very different and a lot more magical, I promise!


	11. The Merpeople

A/N: So I'm back with this one after a long time. Hope someone still remembers it. In case someone wonders about all the Celtic names here, you'll find all about them in the Oxford Dictionary of Celtic Mythology, which is a highly useful book. Of course everyone knows that Hermione is owned by JKR, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros, etc. etc., which is a shame considering the slave trade has been abolished for some years. The rest are more or less mine, though with ancient goddesses and you probably ought to be careful.

THE MERPEOPLE

August 1st, 1982

"This is the life!" Sighing luxuriously, George collapsed in the golden sand. "Lovely weather, hardly any people around ... Really, it couldn't be any better in Italy or Majorca!" 

"I dare say it could be a lot worse there;" his wife grinned at him, "Everybody goes to Majorca these days, don't they?"

"I think so, anyway, your favourite sister-in-law is there now." 

"Gee, more's the luck. So we'll definitely not run into her here! I knew why I insisted on Ireland. Everybody kept carping about how it's always raining, and now look at the sun! I bet we can even risk getting into the water without getting frostbites ... Anyway, no rotten teeth and bad breath for two weeks!"

In the meantime, Hermione, who had brought her own small bag along, was neatly arranging her blanket on the sand. After rummaging in her bag for a couple of minutes, she got out a book dropped down on her stomach and opened it.

"I've  still to get used to her reading books at her age," George said, more to himself. "What is it, honey?" he inquired.

Hermione, who was already deep in her story, looked at him and without a word showed him the cover. It showed a medieval ship, at anchor in a bay surrounded by high mountains. An apparently huge dragon in red and gold was flying above the ship, and on the beach in the foreground there were three figures, obviously children, but wearing chain mail and colourful tunics; one of them was raising a bow aiming at the dragon, while next to the three humans a rather large mouse, wearing a beret and walking on its hind legs was brandishing a rapier in the dragon's direction.

"Oh, of course," George said, having glanced at the image shortly. "It's number five already, isn't it? You're quite addicted to these, right?

"Mhm," his daughter replied, her nose already back in the book again. 

*

A shadow that fell on her book caused Hermione to look up. The tall woman in front of her would have been quite a strange sight to most adults. Her sea-grey cloak alone was extraordinary enough, floating around her in the breeze in a way that made you feel dizzy, the really stunning thing about her, however, was her long wavy hair that was a bright green. Yes, her appearance would have caused quite a sensation.

But not to Hermione. She rose to her knees, and looked at the stranger, interested but not in the least surprised or scared.

"Who are you?" she inquired. "You look – different."

"I am Fand, Lady of the Waves," the woman's voice had a suggestion of the sea in its sound. "How is it you can see me, human child?"

"See you?" Hermione was puzzled. "What's so special about seeing you?"

"We of the moruadh are invisible to humans, - "

"Oh, so you're a fairy, like Tinkerbelle?" Hermione exclaimed delightedly. "I've so wanted to meet someone like her again! I almost started to believe I had only dreamed her … What did you say you are?"

"Moruadh, mermaid, as your people would say. So you have seen fairies before? It is true, then, there is something very special about you. Shall I show you my realm?"

"Yes, please! I'd love to! But – " Hermione hesitated, "What about Mum and Dad?"

"They will not even notice that you are gone," Fand replied. "Time will flow differently while you are with me, and when you return, for them no time at all will have passed. Look – " She pointed at Hermione's parents, and indeed, it seemed as if they were frozen in a film still, as were the few other people in the distance.

"Shall we go?" she said with a smile, extending her hand.

Hermione took it. "What must I do?" she inquired eagerly.

"Nothing much," the mermaid replied, "there's only one important thing: You must always wear this – " she produced a small cap that appeared to be made of red feathers from the folds of her cloak, and handed it to Hermione.

"It's pretty, what is it? And why must I wear it?"

"It's called a cohullen druith, and it allows you to breathe under water. Just as it allows us to breathe air on land." She pulled back her hood and showed Hermione the cap she was wearing beneath it. "Sometimes, mortals have seen us on land, wearing these, and they concluded stupidly that they enabled us to live under water, which is nonsense of course ... "

"Yes," Hermione interrupted earnestly, "you aren't BORN with these, are you?"

"You really are a clever little girl," the fairy nodded approvingly. "Now, as soon as we are in the water, put this on ..."

They walked into the waves that, strangely enough, were not affected by the time spell and were swishing up the beach as regularly as ever. When the water reached her shoulders, Hermione put on the cap. She noticed at once that she could not breathe air any more, and for a short moment panic seized her; but then she took another step and was immediately relieved when the water covered her face, - she was breathing perfectly normally again, just as if she had been on dry land. Her feet lost contact with the ground, and she found herself floating beneath the surface, still holding on to the mermaid's hand. Without performing the normal swimming movements they were gliding through the water, slowly going deeper all the while.

"Do we have to go far?" She asked her guide.

" No, we are almost there. Look."

They had set foot on a sandy patch of ground. The surroundings were lit in a greenish light, with occasional brighter and darker shades. Looking around her, Hermione noticed they were standing in something like a market square, a rectangular area surrounded by a number of stone buildings. Merpeople were going about their business, not paying any attention to them.

"Are these the houses you live in?"    

"Yes, and that is the royal palace over there," Fand said, pointing.

The building was considerably larger than the others, and it was decorated with all sorts of ornaments, sculptures of fish and other sea creatures.

"Why are there no windows, and no doors?"

"Well, what are your windows for?"

"Hmm, - to let the light in – "Hermione paused for a moment, thinking hard, then her face lit up. "Of course!" she exclaimed, "Here the light comes from above! So your windows will be at the top of the house."

"How clever of you. I thought you might find out yourself. Yes, and as we can swim even more easily than walk under water, the entrance is also there. Come on."

The top of the building was a structure of  narrow stone beams, the gaps in between covered with a clear substance that looked like glass.

The moment they approached, a colourful fish, in blue and yellow, about two foot long, rushed at them, wagging its fins furiously.

"Don't be afraid," Fand laughed, when Hermione jumped, or rather floated, backwards. "It's only Lir. He's like those four-legged animals your people keep in their houses – "

"Dogs?"

"Yes, that's it. He's just being friendly, and curious, of course. He knows you are different."

"Oh, he is really cute, aren't you, Lir?" Hermione reached out her hand and the fish started nibbling at her fingers. "He likes me!" she giggled delightedly.

At the entrance, a girl met them, perhaps a head taller than Hermione, with the same bright green hair. She hesitated for a moment, but then came over to Hermione, smiling.

"This is my little sister," Fand explained, "Liban, I have brought a human child with me, - oh, I'm sorry, I didn't even ask your name."

"I'm Hermione, and it's really great to get to know you and your people."

She held out her hand to the girl, who looked at it bewildered. 

"Oh, sorry, you probably have different customs," Hermione said quickly. "This is how we say hello when meeting for the first time." And she grabbed the girl's hand and shook it.

"This is fun," Liban laughed, and shook back vigorously, so that Hermione almost dissolved in giggles. 

Liban took Hermione's hand and led her into another chamber of the house. 

"This is my room," she said proudly. The chamber was blue and green colours, with an occasional streak of yellow, but no really bright or warm shades. Several small fish and other sea creatures were approaching curiously, among them a dull orange lobster like thing with large black eyes at the top of  a pair of long antennae.

"This is Afanc," Liban told Hermione, scooping the animal up in her arms. "But it's a joke, of course. He really is a dear."

The lobster creature wiggled its antennae in Hermione's direction, and she eyed it a bit suspiciously. 

"Come on, touch his head," Liban reassured her. "He just wants to get to know you."

Hesitantly, Hermione reached out and put a finger on the thing's head. And indeed, the animal's antennae  seemed to shiver in a delighted way, and reached out to touch her face, which made her giggle again.

"You say his name is a joke?" Hermione enquired.

"Oh, of course, you don't know about this sort of thing. In our ancient tales, Afanc is a very dangerous sea-monster; this one here – " she stroked the animal tenderly, "may look a bit weird, but he is a very sweet pet, so we thought it a funny idea to name him like that."

The two girls were happily playing with the sea-creatures, when Fand entered, looking quite serious.

"I really don't like doing this," she said to Hermione, "but I think you should se this. Come with me please. – Another Sellafield case," she told Liban, whose face clouded over at this.

"I'm sorry," Liban took Hermione's hand again, "You 'l not like what you are going to see, but you'll understand. And there can never be enough humans to understand what their kind are doing."

Mystified and a bit frightened at these words, Hermione followed. In another room, two merpeople were holding a large grey-green fish. It looked sick, its fins were flapping weakly, and there some nasty boils and ulcers on its skin.

"We found it in the Irish Sea," one of the two merpeople addressed Fand. "It must have  got a full dose of the poisoned waters the humans keep pouring into the sea." He looked extremely angry, and Hermione suddenly felt guilty.

"Of course it's not your fault," Fand, who seemed to have read her thoughts, encouraged her. "And I believe it's not even the fault of most of your people. They just don't know ..."

"But they do know!" Hermione suddenly felt very angry. "At least they could know if they'd only take the trouble! There are things on the news again and again, and nobody seems to care. Oh, this is awful!" She looked at the fish again.

 "Will it – will it die?"

"I'm afraid so," Fand said quietly.

Hermione burst into tears, and Liban put her arms around her.

"Don't cry," she whispered soothingly, "there is nothing you can do. I'm sorry we showed you this, but we were sure you'd understand, and I see we were right."

"Yes," her sister agreed, "the more humans understand about this, - understand with their heart, not only their mind, - the better the chance that some time this madness will stop. It won't be in a few years, but perhaps, when you are grown up, you'll be in a position to change things, and then you'll remember ... "

"I will, I promise," Hermione said very earnestly. Suddenly, she rushed over to the fish and threw her arms around it, sobbing.

The animal's convulsive shudders ceased suddenly, and for a moment it was perfectly still. Then the fins started to move again, but in a way that seemed to be more harmonious and comfortable.

"What's this?" Hermione stepped back, surprised.

"It's not in pain anymore," there was amazement in Fand's voice. "I'd never have expected this. Who knows, maybe – " her voice trailed off.

"Maybe what? Maybe it – won't die?"

"I can't say; I've never seen anything like this before, so there is no way of telling. But it seems to be definitely better... Oh, I knew you were a special child, but this ..."

"You mean it was me? But how ... I mean I didn't DO anything ... "

"I don't know, really, but it seems obvious, doesn't it? However, this may just be a temporary thing, anyway, we don't know. But whatever happened, you certainly have helped a creature in distress. – And now," she added in a brisk tone, "it's time for you to go back. These spells about time are rather tricky, and if you make any mistake, you may run into the most frightful mess. You wouldn't want to come back and find several years have passed during your absence, for example, would you?"

This took Hermione's mind off the strange thing she had just witnessed.

"Several years?" she squeaked. "Certainly not! Will you take me?"

"The way back is much easier," the fairy reassured her, smiling. "I'll just take your cohullen off, you'll fall asleep instantly, and when you wake up, you'll be back on the beach. Nobody will notice you've been gone."

"That's lovely. Can I tell my parents about all this?"

"You can, but don't be too disappointed if they find it hard to believe you."

"I know. They always say I've been dreaming ... "

"You see? My advice is, don't insist. Most humans will keep ignoring the otherworld as long as they possibly can. Many can keep it up for a lifetime, but I imagine your family will learn, sooner or later. Now, let's say good-bye ... "

"Will I be able to meet you again? Please say yes, I loved being here!"

"Once a friend of the moruadh, always a friend of the moruadh. Just put your face in the water and say my name, or my sister's. If we can we'll come and get you. Now are you ready?"

Hermione and Liban hugged each other, and Fand also embraced her.

"Fare well, human child, we will meet again. I think you have a great gift, use it well."

With a swift movement, she took the cap, and everything went black in front of Hermione's eyes.

*

She opened her eyes, blinking in the glare of sunlight reflected from the pages of the book in front of her. A tiny red feather clung to her palm. Smiling happily, she took a small enamelled box from her bag and put the feather in it, where she already kept another small brownish feather and a colourful, though slightly faded flower.

After thinking for a moment, Hermione got up and stepped over to her parents.

"Mum, Dad?"

"Mmm, what –" George stirred sleepily.

"Yes, dear?" Her mother was obviously faster to get back to her waking state.

"You won't believe it," Hermione started, "but I really have to tell you the most fascinating story ..."

xxx

"What a nice dream," George said after his daughter had finished. "But hardly surprising, considering the chapter in your book you fell asleep over."

"I knew you'd say that," his daughter complained. "You always do. But Fand said even you would believe me some day. So just wait and se who's right!"

"Fand?" Prudence said musingly. "What were the other names again? There was that Fand woman's sister Liban, and – "

"And the pet fish called Lir," Hermione went on eagerly. "And that lobster was named after a sea-monster, but I can't remember the name ... But you can't say I just invented these names, Dad, can you? So there!" she ended with a not of triumph in her voice.

For a moment, George was indeed at a loss. But then shrugged and remarked, "Well strange things do happen in dreams, so why should your subconscious not come up with some strange names? After all, they don't mean anything."

"I daresay you're right," Prudence said doubtfully. "But 'Lir'? I'm sure I've heard that name before. – Wait – yes! _The Children of Lir_! There's this tragic folk tale of those children who were changed into swans ... I don't remember much more, but as soon as we're back – "

"You'll check on it in the library," George completed her sentence for her.

"Oh, stop making fun of me!" She threw a handful of sand at him, laughing.

Xxx

"Do you really think this was wise?" Minister Fudge enquired.

"I do indeed," Dumbledore's voice was firm. "What better opportunity to introduce some uncertainty about their concept of  'reality'. You know what their research about those names in the library will tell them. It's easy for her mother, who has always secretly hoped for some signs of the magic world. But even her father will not be able to completely stick to his dream theory. Of course he'll refuse to acknowledge the idea of 'real' merrows, but deep down he will start to doubt ... And you know, minister, don't you, that they WILL have to accept the existence of our world when they get the Hogwarts letter. And in my experience it's much easier if Muggle parents at least believe in the possibility of what they like to call the supernatural. Trust me, this needs careful guidance and development."

"If you say so." The minister sounded still doubtful, but, as usual, did not know what to say.

"Yes, I do," Dumbledore stated firmly, his eyes twinkling.

GREETINGS, GENTLE READERS!

I'm sorry this took so long, but somehow I got stuck in the middle and could only find my way onwards a couple of days ago. Hope you like it nevertheless.

For those of you wondering what Prudence will find out about the names in the library, here are the answers: FAND – wife of the Celtic sea-god Manannan mac LIR (which answers that question, too), LIBAN – Fand's sister, who goes around in a green mantle, also a mermaid who was baptised in the 6th century and is known as Saint Muirgen.

Finally, a question for you to answer:

What book was Hermione reading on the beach, and which chapter did she "fall asleep on", at least according to her father?

PS: Some people have pointed out that Hermione is far too young to do and say all the things I make her. This is probably true, so I'm considering editing the whole story again with regard to the time factor. Does anybody think this is a good idea? I'd really love some advice on this one!


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